Reflection
by MishaMuse
Summary: One shot. "Different. That was the word that came to R. Truth's mind when he stared into the mirror and his doppelganger stared back. He was different. Not worse, not better, just… different." This is a little darker, content-wise, than I usually go.


A/N: I have no idea where this came from. It's not in my usual style, nor is it my usual subject matter. I did this for Pixiella's back to school contest. Enjoy…?

Reflection

Different. That was the word that came to R. Truth's mind when he stared into the mirror and his **doppelganger** stared back. He was different. Not worse, not better, just… different. Like a **butterfly**, emerging from its' cocoon. "Are you almost ready to go out there?" Miz asked from where he'd been sitting on the bench, lacing up his boots. Truth stared at his new friend in the mirror, a long look. He still wasn't sure why Miz was talking to him, but he suspected it might not last for long. The truth ran through his mind at all times. The truth- the only thing that mattered. "Truth?"

Truth cleared his throat, pulling his gaze away from the mirror, away from that horrible imitation of himself, and turned to face Miz. "I'm ready," he said.

"Good," Miz said. "Just don't forget what I told you."

"I'm not going to forget," Truth said.

^%^

He could barely remember the aftermath. There had been blood, **red** and thick, running out of the ring. A lot of blood. Truth stared into the darkness, the blood coating all his senses. Outside, away from here, he could hear someone calling his name. Miz again? "Truth? Truth! **Why are you staring at the duck pond like that?** Truth?" But even if he wanted to, he couldn't break away from what he was seeing. Duck pond? Miz must have lost his mind. All Truth could see was the ring, and the blood.

^%^

During the promo, he kept saying things that he didn't mean to say. "The eyes are the **windowsill** to the soul," he said to Punk. "And your windows are dirty." He could see the concerned look that Miz was shooting him, but his friend couldn't say a word since they were live. "You live in a world without noise, in the void, watching nothing but reruns of **Star Trek**. You live like a caveman with all your music and your hair."

"What is he doing?" he heard Punk mutter to Miz, who had moved in closer. The tiny shrug Miz gave the enemy- their common enemy- made the rage flare, all bright and flashing like the fireworks he no longer saw in the entrances. Flashbulbs, like paparazzi. Flashing lights, and a roar, dull but growing louder by the minute.

Different. Not good or bad or right or wrong, just different.

^%^

"Truth?"

"I'm all right," he told Miz, pulling his gaze away from the pond. "I thought I saw something. That's all."

"Maybe we should go back," Miz said, nerves in his voice. Truth smiled.

"We're fine," he said. "Nothing out here but us ducks, right?"

"Yeah, right." Miz let his own gaze fall on the duck pond. "It is peaceful out here."

"Much quieter," Truth agreed. "Much warmer and less…" He stopped himself from saying the word 'blood' at the last second. "Noise."

"Right. Uh, well, Punk and Morrison said they'd meet us at dinner. We need to go soon."

"In a minute," said Truth, the smile never leaving his lips.

^%^

The mirror never left his soul. That was how he figured it all out. It was the mirror that started it all. He'd wondered at first if he was going crazy, and then he realized the truth. His other, within the mirror, was the one making him do this. That Truth knew magic, and he was powerless against it. At first, he'd thought that the others could help him fight it: mirror Miz and mirror Punk had seemed especially helpful that first week. But then, they'd betrayed him, stolen his will and laughed at him as he struggled to maintain control. Finally, he realized the truth. He had to stop them, before they took over his world. He had to make it all end.

He stood in the ring across from Punk, his eyes blurred by the knowledge of what he had to do next. Collateral damage. That was all they were. Collateral damage in his war against the Truth that was a lie. A flipped version, a perversion of everything he'd ever stood for. Evil. It had to end. He had to stop this madness. And he knew just how to do it, too. It wouldn't be easy.

^%^

Truth pulled the camera from his pocket and snapped a picture of the duck pond in the darkness. The flash lit the area briefly, allowing him to see the shallow water's murky bottom. It wouldn't take long. Another snap, and the **digital camera's batteries** whirred and died. He shrugged and threw the camera into the water. He didn't need it anymore, anyway. The image was captured, and the deed was nearly done.

"Why did you do that?" Miz asked, coming back with the package Truth had pulled from the arena. "That was an expensive camera."

"I'll buy you another one tomorrow," Truth said absently. "When the sun's up and it doesn't matter anymore."

"I don't care," Miz said. "It was Morrison's camera, anyway."

^%^

Michael Cole was screaming something about wolves attacking, but Truth didn't let that distract him from the task at hand. He landed a vicious kick in Punk's ribs, causing the younger man to curl protectively into the fetal position. Miz was looking at him strangely, and he vaguely recalled something about a match plan. The thought flitted away as he kicked again, savage and angry. He was gratified to see blood flowing from Punk's lips. Blood was good. Blood meant that you were still alive. Probably.

Miz pulled him away and landed his own kick, though it was much weaker than the ones Truth had landed. That was all right. He understood. Miz knew the truth, too, but unlike Truth, he was on the other side. The mirror had gotten to him. He still might be able to save Punk. The blood had shown that.

^%^

"Punk's going to be all right?" Truth asked suddenly, staring into the water as Miz struggled to get the wrapped item to the water's edge.

"Well, he had some **serious damage done** to him," Miz said, "but he's fine. I was surprised that he walked away after the beating you gave him. What got into you, anyway?"

"I don't know," Truth said. "Maybe it was the devil." He turned and smiled at Miz, who shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Let me see that." Miz allowed him to take the edges of the package, and Truth ripped away the paper to reveal the mirror from the locker room. "There."

"I still don't know why you wanted to lug that all the way out here," Miz said.

Truth chuckled. "Look into it, Miz, and tell me what you see."

"It's too dark."

Truth handed over the little flashlight they'd used to find the area, and Miz clicked it on. "Now?"

Miz frowned. "It's just a reflection of me. So?"

"So." Truth sighed. "It's haunting me."

"My reflection?"

"No," Truth said. "Mine." He lifted the mirror and held it as though to throw it, then glanced at Miz. "It has to die, you see." And then he threw the mirror into the water and watched it sink, stirring up the silt on the bottom of the pond.

Miz stared after it. "Can we go now?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable.

"Of course," Truth said, clapping his friend on the back. Miz relaxed a fraction, and that was all it took. Truth slammed into him, knocking the wind out of Miz as he hit the ground. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his fingers tightened on Miz's throat and the other superstar struggled frantically against the hold. "I'm so sorry."

^%^

Backstage, Punk leaned against the wall, wincing. "You didn't have to kick so hard," he told Truth.

"I had to make sure the demons left."

"Yeah. Thanks." Punk turned to Miz. "Dinner? Morrison said he'd take me by the hotel to get some stuff and then we can meet at that little place we saw on the way in."

"Sure, sounds good," Miz said.

"There's something I have to do first," Truth said. "It won't take long, and then we can all have the meal we deserve. Will you help me, Miz?"

Miz shot a glance at Punk, then shrugged. "Sure, Truth. Why not?"

Truth smiled. "Good. That's good."

^%^

The pond's ripples quieted as though it had never been disturbed. Truth stared down into the water, a mirror in itself. He could see the silvery light from the mirror on the bottom, and Miz's lifeless body atop it. He took a long moment to say a prayer for the soul of the real Miz, then turned, head down, and headed for the car. He'd hoped to save Miz's soul, but there hadn't been time. Miz's cell phone rang and he picked it up, checking the number. Punk. With a grim smile, he tossed it into the water after Miz's body. He'd hoped that he was wrong about Punk, that maybe the mirror hadn't gotten to him, too. He'd been wrong. That was another lesson learned. He couldn't afford to let it go. The mirror doubles had to learn. He was the only one who could teach them.

As his boots crunched through the dry grass, he paused next to Miz's car. One down, one to go.


End file.
